That Sense of Foreboding
by Linda4HIM59
Summary: This is a one shot, single chapter short story/missing scene from the episode Point Blank. It always bugged me that Sully seemed oblivious to the fact that Michaela had been shot. They had a spiritual connection! More than once, they proved that. He would have felt that she was that badly hurt. So, this is my remedy for that omission.


**THAT SENSE OF FOREBODING**

_By Linda Ellen_

_June 2014_

With a smile, Michaela turned toward the file cabinet after promising Dorothy that they could have lunch together once Katie awoke from her nap.

Placing her latest patient's file in the drawer, she thought for a fleeting moment that she if she completed her paperwork in a timely fashion, she might have a little time to indulge in one of her favorite pastimes – that of daydreaming about her gorgeous husband, and in particular, their time together the previous night. But before those lovely thoughts could even form in her mind, she heard a knock at the door of the clinic.

Her back to the door, she continued her task while waiting for the person to come on in. When they didn't, she called, "Come in!"

When they still did not enter, Michaela turned and crossed the room, reached for the knob and swung the door open herself.

She saw a man standing in the shadow of the porch, but didn't recognize him as anyone she knew.

"Can I help you?" She queried politely, thinking it just a tiny bit strange, the way the man seemed to be nervous or agitated.

"Are you the doctor?"

_Yet another male who has never seen a female doctor. Will this ever become a thing of the past? _Michaela mused as she patiently replied, "Yes, I'm Dr. Michaela Quinn."

She then watched the man turn his head to see if anyone was looking as he reached into his coat and removed a pistol. For an instant Michaela thought she might be imagining things. _Why would he be pulling out a gun? _ But as the man turned the gun toward her, her eyes widened as she gasped and froze in unmitigated terror. The world as she perceived it immediately seemed to become set in painfully slow motion.

She had felt fear before, of course. Many times. When she set out on her own to forge a new life in a land far away from all things familiar... when she was taken by the dog soldiers and she had little hope of surviving or at least remaining untouched...when she faced the prospect of her husband having been killed in a fall from a high cliff... but she had never in her life felt such instant, complete utterly primal panic. Her limbs felt frozen solid. She couldn't move to slam the door in the man's face, or turn and run for her life, or beg him for mercy, or even raise a hand in a vague attempt to protect herself from what she knew of absolute certainty was coming. A myriad of thoughts bombarded her brain as she tried to make sense of the situation – Katie asleep upstairs, oblivious people walking the streets just yards from her porch, her friends close by not knowing she needed their help, and one thought over them all – Sully.

In the split second before the man pulled the trigger, Michaela opened her mouth to protest, but then the unthinkable happened.

He fired.

The pain was so acute it took her breath away, even as the force of the bullet sent her tumbling backward and crashing onto the hard surface of the clinic's floor. She realized in a haze of agony and horror that the unknown assailant had actually shot her. The searing pain in her upper chest and shoulder radiated outward, burning with ferocious intensity. Her mouth opened, but the only sound that could escape was a tiny squeak of a name. What was left of her common sense told her it was useless to call for _him_, as she knew he was miles away. But always before, he had somehow magically just been there when she needed him, forever her defender and protector. Already feeling herself start down into the spiral of shock, she whimpered, "S...sully!"

Her eyes slowly closed as she tried to concentrate on enduring the horrific pain, even as the physician side of her brain registered that she was in dire trouble. She could feel the blood oozing steadily from the wound – _subclavian artery_, she immediately identified in spite of the precarious state she was in – and if something didn't happen soon to alleviate the problem...

Moments later she heard a noise at the door and her eyes opened, for a fraction of a second thinking it might be her love – but it was Hank. Still, at that moment, he was a very familiar and welcome sight.

"Michaela!" he yelled in disbelief, one hand shoving locks of his wild ringlets behind his ear.

Drawing in a ragged breath, she managed to gasp, "Hank!"

"Hang on Michaela. Hang on," he encouraged as he bent down to scoop her up in his arms. Wincing as his right bicep protested against the sudden use, he cursed himself for the silly, drunken wager of the night before when he had pitted himself against several burly customers in a duel of arm wrestling. He had won, but the result was he had pulled a muscle. Now when he needed his strength the most, he almost couldn't get Michaela up off the floor.

"Oh my god!" he bellowed as he staggered to his feet. _Somebody shot the doc_! _The man I saw ridin' away – but...why the he** would he DO somethin' like this?_

Suddenly all of the suppressed feelings Hank harbored for the beautiful lady doctor came rushing to the fore. He knew Sully was out of town, and realizing her well-being - even her very life - lay in his hands, he immediately sprang into action.

Edging out the door as Michaela whimpered and moaned in his arms, he yelled at two gawking men, "Get outta the way!"

Michaela, her vision and awareness rapidly darkening, heard Hank's voice as if from yards away and not right above her as he bellowed, "Somebody get me a wagon! We need a wagon!" Hazily Michaela could make out Loren's face from several feet back as he put his hands up to his mouth in shock. Dorothy's voice seemed to come from far away as well as she squealed, "Oh my god, Michaela!"

Michaela knew she was starting to lose consciousness and the physician side of her brain warred with the human side that was paralyzed with fear. She needed to tell someone to apply pressure to the wound, but she couldn't seem to form the words. Her eyes didn't want to stay open. Sounds were blurring together, Hank's voice yelling orders, other's screaming, Loren mentioning Sully's name, the sound of the tinkling chains of a wagon pulling quickly to a stop. The pain was more than she could tolerate, and all she could do was moan weakly, her breath coming in tiny gasps.

She felt them drag her up onto the wagon, and out of necessity they were a bit rough. Then a hand pressed against the spot from whence the fiery pain emanated, and a familiar voice softly murmured, "Put pressure on the wound, right Mi..."

She tried to focus on the face that asked the question, but it was too blurry for her to recognize.

Blackness was rapidly overtaking her, much like a tiny candle being drawn down into a pit of deep, dark mud. _I...I need to... make sure Katie's all right...and Brian...and tell Sully I... love him... _Just before the flame of her consciousness sank into the cold, dark abyss and became extinguished, the last thing that registered was the warmth and not-that-unpleasant odor of cigarillos on Hank's jacket as he covered her. Then nothing.

The essence that was Michaela slipped mercifully into the realm of unconsciousness.

OOOOOO

Sully jotted down the coordinates indicated by the surveying equipment fixed firmly atop the tripod, and stuffed the small notebook back into a pocket of his buckskin jacket. Thankful that it was a bright January day and quite a bit above freezing, he was glad for whatever warmth the sunshine could provide. For a moment, he stood still, just gazing at the evergreen covered hills.

Oh how he loved the land. Loved it just the way it was – raw, wild, untamed...

As that thought entered his mind, his eyes twinkled and his mouth turned up in a one sided smirk as a soft snort escaped his lips. Wild...untamed... the words made him instantly think about Michaela. His eyes slipped shut as he thought of the amazing woman who was his wife. To the world, she was always prim, proper, and dignified. No one but him knew her private side. He was the only one who saw what she was like 'behind closed doors'. The closed door of their bedroom, that is. He was the only man lucky enough to experience the passion that lurks just beneath the surface of Dr. Michaela Quinn. The passion that had always been there, but he was the one who had possessed the key to unlock that magical door.

A memory crossed his mind and he chuckled softly, thinking it was amusing now, but at the time it had ticked him off. When he had overheard Hank boldly proclaiming that Michaela was a stick of dynamite waitin' to be lit and he had the match. _Nope, Hank ol' buddy – I'M her match. In every way._

The months Sully had been on the run from the army, in hiding out at that lonely, dreary cave, had been some of the most difficult stretches of time in his life. Oh, how he had missed her...his beautiful wife...his heartsong...his lover. Dozens of nights he had lain awake, staring at the rock ceiling with the light of the fire's flames dancing across its surface as he relived moments of them together and imagined times in the future he hoped they would have.

They had only managed a few stolen moments together over those long, endless months. Then, since he'd been granted his pardon and they had managed to finish the task of escorting the remaining Cheyenne to the Tongue River Valley - and then escorting that seemingly inept couple to find their family - he and Michaela had been hard-pressed to carve out any time for themselves, other than stolen moments and sweet kisses.

But last night, his loving wife had turned wildcat as she, in her words, wanted to send him off on his overnight surveying trip with 'something to keep him warm' as he had to camp out in the cold January temperatures. He shook his head, a saucy chuckle escaping as his eyes crinkled and his grin widened. _I'd say she succeeded_.

Surrendering to where his thoughts had led, he allowed his head to tip back a bit as their time of loving flowed like a play through his mind...

_The fire crackling in the hearth created leaping bits of light on the warm wooden walls as they lay entwined together in their room. They'd been talking in hushed tones about his trip to a valley Welland Smith needed to be surveyed. It was just far enough away that he would need to spend the night. Michaela had sighed softly, torn between being glad that Sully had found work in which he was not only quite good, but also enjoyed – and sad because it seemed like she had only just managed to get him home and settled again. The family had not even become re-accustomed to his presence at the dinner table. Colleen had only just gone back to school. She had admitted she knew she was being selfish, but the frustration of those months apart was still so fresh._

_To Sully's complete delight, his wife had turned in his arms and raised a hand to his cheek as she whispered, "Let's make this a night to remember."_

"_I'll go for that," he had murmured in return, just before Michaela had claimed his lips in a fiery kiss that had taken his breath away. Usually the one to initiate their love making, Sully had held back, curious to see just what his wife – turned tigress – would do. He didn't have long to wait._

_Quickly divesting herself of her nightgown, Michaela became the aggressor, and Sully the more-than-willing recipient. Her kisses set him on fire, the feel of her warm soft skin brushing against his made his pulse race - but her bold caresses threatened to take him over the top. She had touched and nibbled and tasted the most sensitive parts of his body in sensuous torture, and it had taken every ounce of self-control he could muster not to take the lead. She had set out to show him she was his woman, passionate, and fervently zealous. Then finally when he had thought he couldn't hold back another minute, she had climbed astride his hips, her long beautiful hair cascading around her like a shimmering curtain, and skillfully joined their bodies for some of the hottest lovemaking he had ever experienced. _

A moan escaped his lips, even as it had at that moment. Was there another woman in the world to equal her? And he couldn't adore her more, his fearless, fiery, self-assured Michaela – and his equal in expressing her boundless love and passion for her mate.

_When he had tried to raise up and join in their 'dance', she murmured a seductive, "Oh no you don't," as she had pressed him back down and then captured his hands and directed them to caress and squeeze parts of her anatomy that had craved his attention for entirely too long. She had thrown her head back in rapturous delight, and proceeded to move atop him so lithely, her rhythm so bold and intoxicating, that he had needed to physically clamp his lips shut to keep from voicing his exuberance so loudly as to alert the other members of the household. He had been unable, however, to stop the telltale moans of pleasure from escaping his throat. Many moments later, with a growl, he had reached up to pull her down to him and she had laughed softly as he rolled them across the bed, effectively pinning her underneath... _

The cry of a hawk directly overhead startled him out of his erotic musings, and he tilted his head, focusing on the bird soaring majestically through the air. The falcon was alone, and Sully immediately wondered about the location of its mate, thinking he fully understood the bird's reason for calling out in lonely frustration. He grinned playfully and opened his mouth, tempted to let loose with a howl or two himself.

Just then, an unheard, unseen _something_ jolted his senses, sending his heart rate into high speed. Seconds later, he felt an odd sort of piercing pain in his chest, near his shoulder, as if he'd been hit by a fast, silent arrow. He stood perfectly still, not even breathing, trying to make sense of the peculiar sensation. _What is it...somethin's wrong...is it Michaela? _He pondered, searching his surroundings, and his consciousness, for clues. Then, after about a minute of his heart racing as if he were running for his life, the feeling began to slowly subside. That sense of foreboding went away and all was calm, as if a lantern had been quietly extinguished.

He shook his head to clear it and reached up to run one hand back through his hair as his other rose to press against his heart. Swallowing, he drew in a ragged breath and moistened his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue. For a moment, he glanced over at his horse, debating whether or not he should make the trip back to town and assure himself that everything was really all right.

_But...if Michaela was hurt, or scared...it wouldna just stopped like that...right? _He reasoned, remembering that time several months before when he was in hiding from the army. He had spent an agonizingly long night feeling deep sorrow, and a mysterious painful feeling deep in his gut. Afraid it was a warning that something might be wrong with Michaela, he had been unable to do anything about it, as he had been many days' ride from home. He and Cloud Dancing were camped by a small stream as they journeyed to meet with Black Moon. He had even awakened his friend and asked him to seek the spirits' advice. The medicine man did, but replied that they gave him no answer.

By the next morning, the feeling of urgency had lessened. That time, of course, the emergency had been that Michaela had suffered a miscarriage. All alone in their bedroom, she had spent that night in terrible pain, losing the baby they had made during one of their few stolen times together. When she had finally told him, all he could say was that he should have been there, and he had berated himself a thousand times for not heeding his feelings and making his way back to her sooner.

Now, however...the feeling stopped after just a few moments...

_She's okay. If she wasn't, I'd know it, _he assured himself with confidence, deciding that what ever the problem had been, it must now be totally resolved. _Maybe she saw a mouse in the kitchen or somethin'_, he snickered, remembering an instance like that once before when his 'fearless' Michaela had squealed in fright and begged for his rescue from her perch on a kitchen chair. He chuckled and shook his head fondly, marveling that the same woman that only flinches upon seeing a snake, facing a rabid bear, or stepping out in front of a charging army, could become like a little girl in response to the unpredictable scampering of a tiny rodent.

He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes once more to try and 'connect' with his wife, but he felt nothing out of the ordinary. Actually he felt nothing at all. _She's gone back about her business_, he silently assured. A small smile adorned his lips as he made a mental note to tease her about her fright and get her to admit to being scared of a tiny mouse or some such creature.

Leaning down to look into the optical micrometer again, he checked the readings once more before folding the tripod and moving on to the next set of coordinates.

OOOOOOO

Later, Sully was concentrating on his work when the sound of a fast moving horse shattered the peaceful calm of the valley.

"Sully!"

He turned to see Matthew riding up to his location at nearly breakneck speed and a kernel of dread immediately lodged in his chest. _Oh no..._

"What's wrong?" Sully demanded. But before Matthew could even say the words, Sully _knew_ it was about Michaela.

Out of breath, Matthew huffed, "It's Dr. Mike." He paused just a moment, wishing there was an easier way to tell his mentor/friend/father figure that his beloved was severely injured, but there was just no time to waste. It had taken longer than he thought to find Sully, and minutes could very well count.

"She's been shot. They're taking her to Andrew's clinic," Matthew admitted, watching the older man's expression.

The words hit Sully hard, as if a large object had been shoved straight against his chest. He couldn't even suck in a breath. An icy chill ran up his spine. _She was shot? Oh my god...I felt it...but I stayed out here and didn't even go to her! _

Gazing around, the all-important job suddenly meaningless, he dropped the pad and ran to mount his horse, leaving his surveying equipment behind without another thought.

Wolf scampered to keep up as Matthew and Sully kicked their horses into full gallop.

_I shouda been there! Maybe I coulda saved her! I gotta get to her! If she...if she dies...I'll never forgive myself...how'm I gonna live without her? _His tortured thoughts wouldn't let up as the miles flew by underneath his horse's pounding hooves. Under his breath, uncaring what his companion might think, he did his best to chant to the 'spirits' in a desperate bid for his beloved's life.

OOOOOOO

From total unconsciousness, Michaela seemed to emerge in slow motion. First, she was aware that she was lying on something soft and warm, and a fire crackled in a fireplace somewhere nearby.

Her eyes fluttered a bit, and then slowly opened. Disoriented, at first she struggled to understand where she was, but then everything came rushing back full force. The knock, the shadowed man, the gun, the loud report as it fired. She startled, wondering where the awful man with the gun was...and if he had gone upstairs to harm her baby!

She heard someone make soothing sounds and then felt a hand reach out and touch her, gently stroking her hair. She moved her eyes to see a figure nearby. Her vision was blurry, but soon began to focus on her husband's beloved face.

"Sully?" she managed to emit a hoarse whisper.

Immediately he soothed, "Shhh, it's all right. Don't try to talk, just rest..."

Confused, she squeaked, "Katie?"

Then her eyes and mind registered that her family were all there with her in the room as Colleen softly assured, "She's fine Ma. She's right outside."

Sully's dearly loved, familiar voice crooned, "We're all here...everyone's here...we're safe."

It was tearing Sully apart to see his precious Michaela in such condition. Part of him wanted nothing more than to jump back on his horse and track that no good piece of scum to the ends of the earth if need be. To choke the life out of him with his bare hands for daring to do such a heinous thing as attack his Michaela. To try to kill her! An unarmed, defenseless, compassionate woman! A doctor who wanted nothing more than to make every person she came in contact with well and happy. Who would _do_ such a thing? And why?

But the more rational part of his head, not to mention his heart, wouldn't allow him to leave her side. Andrew had solemnly warned that the first few days would be touch and go, and that he had done all he could. Sully knew he had to stay there and help her pull through this. Will her to live. Give her some of his own strength if he could. Fight off the 'angel of death' somehow.

Sully resisted the panic that threatened to rise in his heart. He would not lose her! He couldn't! _Oh why was I gone – again - when she needed me? Why didn't I come back sooner? I love her so much...she means everything to me!_ His thoughts again tormented him as he gazed down at his love, determined to make up for his failings, and promising himself and her that he would never fail her like this again.

Michaela felt his hand warm on her unhurt shoulder as he gazed back at her with such love and devotion in his eyes, she felt her anguish and fear lessen a little bit.

He was there with her. He'd come back. She was safe now. Her beloved would handle everything. He would stand guard, as he had the time he had rescued her from the dog soldiers...

She had no idea, however, the torment she would face, the magnitude of which even Sully's constant presence would be unable to alleviate.

For now, it was enough that he was there. All her family was there, and safe.

With a tired sigh, a single tear slowly made its way down her temple as she gratefully slipped back into the blissful oblivion of sleep.


End file.
